


Until It Doesn’t Hurt

by Quickspinner



Series: Learning to Move On [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lukanette, Post-Episode: s03 La Marionnettiste 2 | The Puppeteer 2, Post-Puppeteer 2, Tikki ships Lukanette, because we all have Feelings after that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quickspinner/pseuds/Quickspinner
Summary: Marinette is tired. Tired of crying, tired of thinking and overthinking. Tired of hurting. She’d give anything for a quiet moment.“Can I play for you?”***Pure Lukanette post puppeteer fluff, because who can help themselves at this point? Clearly not me. I don’t think there’s any spoilers for the actual episode.





	Until It Doesn’t Hurt

It was a long day, after the wax museum. Marinette did everything she could think of to make it as painless as possible, which mostly meant trying to cover up her shattered heart. She’d allowed Alya to give her the third degree over the phone to avoid any confrontations on school property, and she’d spent extra time on her makeup that morning to keep the worst of her distress from showing. She applied allergy eyedrops liberally both to keep the red from being too obvious, and to give her a plausible explanation for whatever was left. She kept her head down and tried to act as she would if she were tired from a late night creative burst. 

And when she needed to cry, she went to the bathroom in the back stall and did it as silently as possible.

Marinette left the classroom and was congratulating herself half-heartedly at her success when she ran into Luka on the steps in front of the school. Literally. He caught her shoulders and steadied her, and said, “Hi Marinette,” with a smile, as if she hadn’t just plowed into him and nearly sent them both careening down the stairs. 

“Luka! Hi,” she tried to smile back. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm done,” Luka replied, dropping his hands. He was looking at her intently with those sleepy eyes that only ever seemed to come really awake when he was performing. But as always, he proved that he saw more under his hooded lids than most people did with their eyes wide open. “Why are you so sad?” he asked, and she appreciated his quiet tone, carefully modulated to avoid drawing attention to them.

Marinette sighed, not bothering to deny it but not wanting to cry in front of him, not over this. “I’d rather not talk about it, Luka.”

She might as well have told him, because his simple “Okay,” brought tears to her eyes and she swallowed hard, looking at the ground. Luka moved, and she realized he was now blocking her from view of the students still flowing out of the building. “I’m sorry,” he said, distress audible in his voice.

She shook her head, covering her face with her hands. “It’s not you, it’s been happening all day. I just need to...not think about it.” She sighed shakily. “I wish I could just stop thinking about it.”

Luka touched her arm lightly. “Can I play for you? We could go over to the park.”

Marinette took her face out of her hands and looked up at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “Absolutely, if it will help. Come on.” He put his hand on her back but didn’t apply any pressure, just waited for her to move. Luka’s hands were long and thin, his touch light and patient and lingering. 

Adrien’s hands were broad and strong, always pressing, squeezes and half-hugs, making as much contact as possible for the few moments he was allowed to touch someone. Tears were clustering thickly on her lashes now and she swiped quickly at them as she started down the steps.

“Didn’t you need to do something?” she asked weakly. He’d been coming up the stairs as she was going down, he must have had a reason.

“I was going to talk to Ivan, but it can wait. It wasn’t important and he wasn’t expecting me. It was just a whim, really, but now I’m really glad I came.” His hand slipped across her back to curl around her shoulder, guiding her around an obstacle she only half saw through her tears. “I don’t mean to pry, you don’t have to tell me anything, but is your family okay?”

“They’re fine,” she said quickly, “it’s nothing like that. Just stupid teenage drama.” Her breath hitched as she said it, and he squeezed her shoulder. 

“It’s not stupid if it hurts you.” It sounded like a well-practiced phrase, and she wondered how many times he’d said it to Juleka.

“It is stupid. I’m being ridiculous, it shouldn’t be that big a deal. Nobody expects to be with their first crush forever anyway.” She shut her mouth quickly. She hadn’t meant to say that last bit.

Luka’s stride faltered for just an instant, and it took a moment for him to answer. “Love doesn’t have to be eternal, or requited, to be real and precious and painful to lose. And life is full of surprises.” He sounded like Tikki, but Marinette was too close to losing it again to laugh. Laughing might be a nice change from crying, but she had a feeling it would be the high pitched, hysterical kind that made people back away. 

Luka guided her into the park, and found them a quiet bench. She’d forgotten how many memories of Adrien she had from this park. Marinette reached into her purse and Tikki pressed a fresh tissue into her hand, patting Marinette's fingers before they withdrew. She pressed the tissue to her eyes and choked back her sobs.

Luka’s long fingers caught her shoulders. “Marinette,” he said, with such compassion that she obeyed his gently tugging hands and let him pull her close and guide her head down to his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, and she felt his chest rise with his sigh. “It sounds like this is one of those things that just has to hurt until it doesn’t anymore.” 

She let herself bury her face in his shirt for just a minute. “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “This is so unfair to you.”

“Don’t think about that right now. You need someone, I’m here. I’m happy to do whatever I can.” He held her until she got herself back under some kind of control, and turned back to his guitar case when she pulled away. 

Curiosity made the tears recede a little as she watched Luka get out his guitar and a small tangle of wires and..stuff. He sorted it all out easily and plugged a small rectangular something into the guitar, then plugged a cable into that and placed a pair of big headphones like Nino’s over his head. “Just give me a minute to tune up.”

She watched his fingers as he plucked and adjusted and plucked again, and when he was satisfied she let him lean forward and put the headphones over her ears and show her how to adjust the volume. 

Marinette looked up at him. “Don’t you need to hear it?”

Luka smiled, not lifting his eyes from the guitar as he strummed lightly. “I always hear it.”

Her pulse quickened and she felt a slight rustle in her bag against her leg, and she could imagine Tikki’s sigh. Marinette suspected the little kwami of having a crush on Luka herself. But then there was no mystery why a goddess of creation and creativity would be drawn to Luka. 

“Anything special you want to hear?” he asked, glancing up. “Or should I just…”

“Just play,” Marinette breathed, leaning back on the bench. “Anything.”

So Luka played, and Marinette listened. She wasn’t quite leaning against him, but she was close enough to feel his sleeve brush her arm as his hands moved. The sun was warm on her and she slid down on the bench a little so she could lay her head back and closed her eyes.

He played a surprisingly wide range of music, not just the rock tunes she was used to hearing from him. One song just melting into another as he played whatever came to mind. It felt so good to just let her mind be quiet. Once or twice she opened her eyes just enough to see him through her lashes. He swayed and bobbed slightly with the music as he played, eyes half-lidded or sometimes nearly closed. He was playing for her, but at the same time he was in his own little world, letting her have the space to feel what she needed to feel. 

There was one melody he kept returning to, quiet and comforting, and finally curiosity got the better of her. 

“I don’t know that song,” she said, and she felt him jump slightly when she spoke. “Sorry,” she smiled, opening her eyes fully.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d fallen asleep,” he said. 

“These benches aren’t nearly that comfy.” She sat up and rubbed at her back. “What’s that song?”

Luka cleared his throat and glanced around. He slid over, closing the small gap between their bodies, and started playing the song again. Then with a quick glance at her that looked almost shy, and a slight lean towards her like he was telling a secret, he sang softly,  _ Baby, where’s that place where time stands still. _ ..and she wondered why he was so hesitant about something so lovely, even as her cheeks heated at the intimacy of the little world he’d created between them.  _ It's no place you can get to by yourself. You've got to love someone and they love you. Time will stop for nothing else.  _

Despite the peaceful melody it was kind of a sad song, about a love that was over, about two people who maybe hadn’t loved each other quite enough to keep time stopped in that peaceful moment, but it spoke to her. It felt like...missed opportunities. Words that should have been said, but never were. _ It's everything I understand, and all the things I never will. _

“That was nice,” she whispered when he finished. “Thank you.”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug as he straightened and put a little space back between them. “It just...felt right, I don’t know. It kinda feels like that here, just playing and sitting. Enjoying the moment. I mean, I know it’s not the greatest moment for you to be stuck in, but—“

“No, it was exactly what I needed. It was nice to just sit and be.” Marinette nudged his shoulder with hers. “Thanks for stopping time for me, Luka.” He looked away to hide a smile that she understood better than he realized. She put her hand over her purse to muffle Tikki’s giggling.

It took a moment before he could look her in the face again. “You’re feeling a little better,” he said. “More like this.” He played a song that was still sad, but a bit less slow, and a bit hopeful as well.

“How do you do that?” she asked him, and he smiled, huffing a small laugh through his nose.

“It’s easy, with you,” he said. “Not everybody is so sincere. Some people are murkier, you know?” 

Marinette pouted. “You never give me a straight answer to that question.”

Luka grinned. “Marinette, I do it the same way you do,” he replied easily. “We both look at people and then take the things we see and give them back in our own language. We’re the same, Marinette. It’s just my language is music, and yours is style.”

“It sounds so profound when you say it that way.”

“I think it is something profound, and precious. We give people another way to connect to the world. We let them know that they’re seen and understood. They hear my music and they think yes, someone understands these twisted up emotions in my heart. They wear your clothes and they say look at me, this is who I am, please look at me and understand. I think creative people like us are very lucky to have something like that to share with the world.” He raised his eyes from his guitar and smiled softly at her. Marinette felt a smile spread over her own face, and she could swear she heard a tiny squeal from her purse.

“Thank you, Luka,” she whispered. 

He lifted his hand from the fretboard and touched her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “My pleasure, Marinette.” He hesitated, and then said softly, “I see you, you know. You’re brave, compassionate, creative, sincere, funny, insightful, sweet, and human...fallible, yes, but I’ve never known anyone who tries as hard as you do. I don’t know what’s going on, and you don’t have to tell me, but I know whatever it is, you’ll find a solution. You’ll find a way to be happy again.”

Marinette bit her lip to stop it from trembling. “You’re a big fat liar, Luka Couffaine.” He reared back, surprised, but she continued. “If you ever say you are bad with words again, I’ll smack that lying mouth right off your face.” 

Lula blinked, and then laughed his quiet laugh. “Well, it’s easy with you.” His cheeks turned pink and he shut his mouth quickly, and Marinette couldn't help but wonder how it could be that out of all the things he had just said, that was the one that embarrassed him. His fingers found the fretboard again and his pick slipped slowly and deliberately across the strings. 

“I’m glad I could make you happier,” he said. “Even if it’s just for a little while.”

“You always do,” Marinette said, and it was as much an epiphany as a statement. She looked at him and found him looking back at her. “I’m always happier when I’m with you.” 

She could see him swallow, and quickly looked back at her hands, face suddenly flaming, but she couldn’t take it back because it was true. In his cabin when they met, on the deck of the ship, at the ice rink, when they were waiting to hear about the video contest—he’s never seen her feeling down and not tried to make it better. She’s never left time with him without feeling better than she did before.

“I’m glad,” was all he said, but his voice was thick and he had to clear his throat. 

Marinette reached up and took the headphones off. “Um, are you hungry?” She offered him the headphones and his fingers brushed hers as she took them.

“I could eat. Did you have something in mind?”

Marinette waved a hand at the bakery across the street. “Your language is music, mine is fashion. My parents’ language is food. I bet they’ll have something perfect.”

Luka chuckled as he began unplugging and putting away his things. “That sounds great.” He stood up and shouldered his guitar, and there was something uncharacteristically shy about the way he offered her his hand. Marinette wondered what he was sensing from her now. She wasn’t sure herself exactly what was in her heart at that moment. She took his hand and let him help her up, and then...she didn’t let go. Instead, her hand turned in his palm as she stepped up beside him and his rough fingers slowly curled around hers as his eyes watched hers. 

Marinette smiled and tugged lightly to get him moving. Her heart still hurt, she reflected as they walked, but she was starting to have hope that it wouldn’t hurt forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to get this posted before I keep adding to it and ruin it, since it’s become my piece to pick at when I get stuck on something else and, well. You know that place where you’ve got a good beginning and ending but the middle looks like a kitten got into your yarn stash? Yeah, I’m living there right now. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
